Guardians of Peace
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: A Jedi awakes on Kamino, following the execution of Order 66. What follows may well change the fate of the galaxy, but whether this is good or bad is yet to be revealed... Rated T for the moment. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

He opened his eyes and he was hit.

The first thing that came to him, smacking him in the face with the comparative force of eighty proton torpedoes, was the metaphorical pain: the pain of knowing that he was alone. The pain of knowing that with only a dozen exceptions, of ten thousand of his kind, he was the last. The feeling of hollowness somewhere in his gut that told him he was alone.

Ten thousand of his colleagues, friends, comrades in arms, reduced to less than a dozen of them, and he couldn't tell who they were either. All that death in a week. If that.

He knew his kind had survived worse than this before: that this was not the first genocide that had hit their ranks. However it affected him more deeply now than any history book could ever have, mainly because... mainly because, he had been there. He had felt it and seen it - and experienced it.

A treachery he couldn't even begin to comprehend. To some part of his subconscious realised and he subtly ignored it, but he could not summon to rational thought an explanation as to why, in the middle of a battle, his soldiers had turned on him and fired on him.

The second thing that hit him, rather harder and more immediately nastier than the first thing, was the far more literal pain: blaster wounds and aching joints. He was lucky to be alive and he knew it. Although against those soldiers... some part of him knew, more than mere luck was involved. He knew them. They were too good.

The third thing that hit him, shortly after that thought and probably as a result of that thought, was the surprise. He had been staring into the face of death: a face that was so familiar to him (given the fact that many thousands of copies of the selfsame face existed and served alongside him and his fellows) that he could have drawn it blindfolded; it was a face that, he would have happily admitted, he would never have expected to see as an enemy. And yet here he was.

Where was here?

He was in a bed. Not a particularly nice bed either in his opinion. It was suspended from the floor by a support strut that looked delicate enough to snap with his fingers, and yet he could sense that it was stronger than it looked. The bed was obviously designed for a humanoid but not for one as - comparatively - short as he. And as he was six feet tall, that was saying something. It was a comfortable but very sparse bed, with a single large, thick but thin-feeling duvet.

The room he and this bed were in was small, cozy, and pristine white. Odd. Then after a moment, he realised where he was. The information did nothing to make him feel better, but he supposed he would have to make do for the moment.

He looked out of the single little window to confirm his suspicion, and it was as he had expected: rain. Lots of rain. More rain than any planet save for this one had a right to have.

Kamino. The planet of the cloners.

He didn't bother exploring the room; there was nothing to explore. Nothing interesting to see. The room was utterly featureless, save for a door, the bed, a window and a lavatory. He wondered briefly why the kaminoans had decided to keep him here. Indeed, why was he alive? He was meant to be dead, wasn't he? Leastways, from the attempt on his life, he reasoned his death must be wanted by someone, although he had no illusions: his own part was insignificant. He was only a target because they all were, and they all were because they were all gone, and only Clones were so efficient, and only Clones had the opportunity, though motive was as of yet a mystery to him.

Why were they all targets in this way? Could it be some Seperatist plot? No. Dooku was dead, and the Clone War was close to being finished. Indeed, many of his friends had spoken of returning home, of returning to the lives they had lived. He had no such dreams. He was under no illusions about this either.

For good or ill, the Jedi Order was changed forever by the wars.

Some might call that a bad thing, might say that they had lost something. He disagreed. The only thing they had lost were their illusions. They were warriors. Maybe they were warriors who fought for noble causes, but they were still warriors. Actually, he didn't mind the thought. The "Will of the Force" that his fellow Jedi were always talking about had seemingly demanded that they fight for justice. Sometimes, the Jedi were the only ones who seemed to fight for justice. That was a sobering thought. He ignored it for the time being.

Other questions had to be asked.

His clothes - such as they were - were a simple grey jumpsuit, probably adapted from clone gear. There was no sign of his traditional robes, nor of his lightsabre, which made him more than a little suspicious, but more importantly, it made him afraid. A Jedi knight was somehow... less without the weapon that was their signature.

Not that he was defenceless without it: a quick test showed that the Force was still with him, as the bed strut creaked at his subtle nudge.

He decided to check himself over: it was the best option. He seemed to be in good health save for a single mark - small and round - on his arm. He studied it: it looked like a hypodermic device mark, though Jedi rarely used such devices. He considered what it might mean for a moment, before consigning it to "mysteries to solve later", his personal mental queue which left little room for non essential thought and precious little room for thoughts irrelevant to the now. Sometimes, it was the only way he could survive, ever since...

No. Don't think about that.

Too late; thoughts of her, simultaneously wonderful, painful, beautiful and tragic moments and feelings, permeated through his mind like a lightning bolt. The pain, raw and fresh and cruel, hit him with the force of a battlecruiser at hyperspace velocity. He sighed. He knew he would never be free of her, that she would permeate his memory until the day he joined with the Force, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He wanted to forget.

And disrespect her memory.

No, he didn't want to forget, not really. The memories washed over him for a moment more before, finally, he decided to force them away. He had to think.

He sighed. He knew his best choice for such thinking was to sit down and meditate - no other choice was open to him. He closed his eyes, and began.

* * *

"Do you think he suspects, yet?" the scientist asked. Her voice was cold and high, and yet still in some part of her self she found she cared for the man in the room she and the politician were observing.

"It is a possibility," the politician conceded. "But isn't that why we chose him? If he begins to suspect, it merely proves what we knew. He was the right choice. The more in touch with the Force he is, the better for our plan."

The scientist nodded thoughtfully. To look at the human Jedi in the little room, now deep in his meditations, one could not guess the extensive modifications his genome had undergone, but they were there. She knew they were there. All of the modifications were personally created, customised and installed by her.

"His record may not be the best," the politician continued, reaffirming an old argument, "but it makes him perfect for the -"

"You sound," the scientist interrupted, "as if you are trying to convince yourself."

The politician looked at her in surprise and mild annoyance. She continued undaunted. "It isn't me you're trying to convince. The Prime Minister may yet deny permission to go ahead."

"He may," the politician concurred with a nod of his head, "but that will only deny us funding which we can replace and government support which we do not need." He focused his small eyes on the still-meditating Jedi. "This plan is guaranteed to work. It has to."

"It does," agreed the scientist gravely. "For the sake of the galaxy." 


	2. Chapter 2

The Jedi liked meditating; in fact, he loved it. A chance to let the troubles of the galaxy pass far away from him so that he could let himself relax and take stock. Sometimes it was easy to do.

This was not one of those times.

His meditations had revealed something... unpleasant. It was a slow revelation, and it took him many moments to realise what the revelation actually was.

Somehow, there was something wrong with his body. Something he could feel, in the edges of his senses. It was not something he could specifically identify but he knew it was there. A change that altered the very way his body worked. Something jarringly unfamiliar in the house of his soul.

It made a kind of sense when he had spent a long time thinking about it. He was on Kamino, home of a race of genetic tamperers. Somehow the had tampered with him, doing something to his genetic structure; but what had they done? And why?

He sighed softly. Answers would either soon be forthcoming, or he would join his fellow Jedi as part of the Force should his hosts decide to kill him. Simple.

Or it would have been, if it weren't for the fact that the Jedi didn't know which outcome he wanted.

* * *

"I believe it is best if we tell him why he is here now," the scientist said, after a long time observing the Jedi's meditation. "It is better that we know his decision sooner rather than later."

"Better that we know his decision before the Prime Minister's?" the politician asked. "Are you sure that is wise? We are not even certain that Lama Su will accept our proposal: a proposal I might add that will cost considerable time and effort."

"Think about the situation with the mind of a scientist," the scientist said. "The Jedi's decision is pivotal. Without his help, our plans will be severely compromised. Useless even."

The politician nodded slowly, digesting the scientist's words.

"Very well," he said at last. "We shall go now. I will explain the situation to him. After I am done, you will tell him our... proposition."

The scientist nodded once.

* * *

The Jedi looked up as the door - the single door to the room he was currently in - opened with a 'swish' sound.

Two Kaminoans entered the room: a male and a female, both in similar white clothing. The male's had slightly larger cuffs maybe.

"Greetings, Master Jedi," the male said. "I am Minister Nao Sar. This is Dr Ja Nei."

The female Kaminoan bowed her head in respect. The Jedi bowed back.

"I'm sure you have many questions, master Jedi," Nao Sar said. The Jedi contemplated this for a moment, then nodded grimly.

"Only the one, Minister," he said. "Why have I been brought here?"

Nao Sar sighed, and a moment later, two chairs descended. The two Kaminoans sat and the Jedi sat on the bed, waiting for them to begin speaking.

"It is... difficult to know quite where to begin," Nao Sar started.

"The beginning?" the Jedi suggested with a wry smile. The Kaminoan gave him what he assumed was the Kaminoan equivalent of 'a look' "I only mean Minister, that any situation must begin somewhere, as this one must have begun somewhere. The question is, where?"

The Kaminoan nodded, and sighed.

"Then... I would imagine it began with the moment the Jedi Master Sifo Dyas placed the order for the Clone Army for the Republic," Nao Sar began. "It was a large order, and one we endeavoured to uphold to the best of our ability. In addition, Palpatine - the Chancellor - placed an order for something I believe is called a Spaarti Cylinder: many of then. As I understand it, he used these to create millions more Clone Troopers."

The Jedi nodded, but he failed to see what this had to do with his being here.

"We made the clones with several contingency orders in place," Nao Sar continued. "The most important one is Order 66. The order to... the order to exterminate the Jedi Order.

The Jedi stopped breathing for a moment as the enormity of that statement reached him. The order to exterminate the Jedi order.

"The troopers turned on me," he said softly. "They turned on all of us."

"Yes," Nao Sar nodded solemnly. "They did. Order 66 was the reason."

"Then how did I end up here?" the Jedi asked, soft, his mind still overwrought with the thought of the treachery he had survived.

"We - that is to say, Ja Nei and myself - ordered the clones with you to bring you to us," Nap Sar explained. "Without the Chancellor - or rather, the Emperor - knowing."

"Emperor?" the Jedi asked, shocked. "What do you mean, Emperor?"

"Chancellor Palpatine declared himself Emperor of the first Galactic Empire," Nap Sar said grimly. "We know that he isn't going to be a benevolent one. Rumours of the Empire's atrocities have already reached us here. That is why we need you, Master Jedi."

The Jedi looked from one to the other Kaminoan for a moment. This was the crux: the needed him for something. But what?

"Go on," he said. Nao Sar looked at Ja Nei, who sighed.

"Master Jedi," she said, her voice soft but determined, "we need you to become the genetic doner for a clone army of Force Sensitives - and to train them all as Jedi Knights, in order to restore peace and justice to the galaxy."

Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. 


	3. Chapter 3

The two Kaminoans looked at each other, then back at the Jedi.

"I apologise if this is a shock to you," Ja Nei said. "But if you will allow me to explain our plan..."

The Jedi nodded slowly, the surprise draining. He calmed himself down to the point where he could listen again.

The Kaminoan scientist sighed.

"When Master Sifo Dyas first contacted us, we broached the possibility that a Jedi could be the donor for the Clone army," she said. "Now, naturally, that did not happen."

"You should be glad it didn't," the Jedi said quickly. "They would have been more dangerous than you realise. They would most likely have been driven mad by their untapped power and turned to the dark side."

The two Kaminoans looked thoughtful for a moment.

"We did," Nao Sar said slowly, "make two clones who were Force sensitive. They were integrated into the GAR. We know nothing of their records past that date. We do know they were successful."

"Were they?" the Jedi asked. "Even so - you aren't talking about one or two. You are talking about an entire army."

"We are aware of that," Ja Nei said irritably.

"I'm not sure you are aware of the implications though," the Jedi countered. "An entire army of Force sensitives..."

"We are not proposing that we train them as we trained the Republic's Grand Army," Nao Sar said. "We are going to assign their training entire to you. You will have complete control over the project from the moment you agree to take control. No exceptions. No excuses. No one will stand in your way. We have already begun the procedure."

"What do you mean, you've already begun?" the Jedi asked, confused.

"Why, the first cloning of course," Ja Nei said. "The first one hundred prototypes will be ready in a little over three months time."

The Jedi looked down at his arm, the mark he had noticed earlier: that must have been what it was there for.

"You took genetic material and began making clones," he said softly. "Without my permission."

"Our cause is desperate," Nao Sar said, earnestly enough that the Jedi realised he probably wasn't lying. "Many of us were not willing to wait for your clones, and began raising a clone army of existing stock."

"However," Ja Nei added, "I calculate a ninety eight percent probability that they 'antitroopers', as they have been dubbed, will fail. They cannot possibly hope to win out against the odds stacked against them."

"But a Jedi army can," Nao Sar finished, smiling expectantly at the Jedi.

The Jedi didn't know quite what to say. Clearly, they were deadly serious. And the order had been wiped clean out of existence. That meant either that Palpatine hated Jedi for personal reasons (not impossible) or more likely that the plan had been to get rid of the Jedi from the beginning. Which would have been appalling, but perfectly in keeping with the modus operandi of the Dark Lords of the Sith...

Dear Force. The Sith in power. The Sith destroying the Jedi. it was the stuff of legends.

"I..." he began, choking slightly. At re thought that friends, colleagues - that _she_ had died, just to further a Sith's megalomaniacal plans. And the clones. Dear Force, an army of men - brave, good men - that had fought and died for a cause at the behest of that causes worst foe. And been made to turn on their only true allies.

"I can't train an army of Jedi alone," he said at last. "And certain items of equipment and clothing, devices... knowledge... all of these things are beyond me."

"I needn't worry about that if I were you, Master Jedi," Nao Sar said, the smile becoming less expectant and more indulgent. "We have gathered various items and technologies which should prove useful, and are in the process of synthesising more. Does the question indicate a desire on your part to take on the task?"

The Jedi shook his head, stood up, and walked away from the Kaminoans towards the little window. "I need time to think about it," he said after a moment. "Please leave me. I need to meditate."

Nao Sar nodded, and, taking Ja Nei with him, left the little room, and the Jedi was alone with his thoughts.

There were many of those to contend with. So many. Did he dare take on this challenge? Would it work? Or would it be some awful aberration against the Force?

His eyes closed and he sank to his knees, seeking truth, his mind racing...

* * *

"Will he help us, do you think?" Ja Nei asked, as she and Nao Sar walked down the corridor. As they walked, they passed the corridor where one hundred little figures watched a training holo in the main amphitheatre, depicting two Jedi Knights in combat, the fluid motions of combat, the knowledge of generations passed down. Occasionally, the holo would cease and diagrams and little notes would pop up. The clones - for they were - would take notes. The holo would continue.

"He asked about how he was to achieve his task," Nao Sar replied. "He will help." The Minister looked over at the window, through which he could see the clones and the amphitheatre. "He will probably tell us the ways in which we train these clones have been mistaken."

Jan Nei looked at the amphitheatre, and frowned. "Then why is that the program we have started them on?"

"Because it is better that we try than rely on one who might not come through for us," Nao Sar said. "Even if he _does_ say no, the clones will receive basic knowledge."

Ja Nei nodded, not entirely convinced.

"I hope he makes his decision soon," she said. "The Empire already suspects the antitroopers existence."

"We are more hidden than their facilities," Nao Sar said. "Even if they fall, we will not. Trust me."

Again, Ja Nei nodded. He was right. They would succeed.

They had to.

* * *

The Jedi found himself confused, for the first time in his life, as to what he should do, and indeed what the will of the Force was in these matters. It was difficult. Every time he tried to meditate, his eyes would snap open and he would sigh in frustration.

He closed his eyes, and tried to think back, back to what had led him here. He thought back to the most important day of his life. The day that changed it all.

He thought back to Geonosis... 


	4. Chapter 4

_His lightsabre ignited and was up in a battle stance a moment after the signal. Mace Windu's distinctive purple lightsabre was a cue for two hundred and twelve Jedi Knights to ignite sabres and ready themselves for battle. Two hundred and twelve of them. Such an assembly was impressive to consider, awesome to behold._

_Pointless._

_Because the Jedi knew, that two hundred and twelve was nowhere near enough._

_When it started, he ran with the main charge, green lightsabre flashing as blaster bolt after blaster bolt was blocked._

_He spun his sabre around, and found himself facing two droids. Cut them down, and two more came up, backed by one of those bigger ones. Nasty looking, but he was Jedi – he would be able to fight it. He spun his sabre to block the bolts, and stepped closer and closer, until he was embedding his sabre in the thing's central processor._

_He turned around, and blocked the hail of bolts from the destroyer droid that had snuck up on him. This was going to be considerably trickier, but he felt that this was not his time to die. Not today._

_He blocked more bolts from the thing, while all around his fellow Jedi fought and died. He closed himself off from the pain of the slaughter, instead channelling his righteous combat fury – such as it was – into the battle with this droideka. He used the Force the throw bits of droid at the thing, all the while blocking any incoming bolts. Then, at a subtle nudge from the Force, he jumped, landing right behind the thing. He moved and stepped inside its shields before it had the chance to move and cut it in two._

_"Right, then," he said. "Back to work."_

_He blocked yet more bolts, but he could see that the battle was turning on the Jedi. The retreat had begun, and more and more Jedi fell to the droids blasters. _

_Soon, the entire Jedi contingent had retreated into a circle, blocking bolts over and over again as the droids closed in. The Jedi could recognise a hopeless situation when he saw one, yet continued to block bolts. Surrender didn't seem to be an option._

_So he was surprised when the droids stopped shooting. He looked up at the box where Dooku was, and the traitor had a hand raised._

_"Master Windu!" he called, his voice the very model of nobility and honour (which just went to show, the Jedi mused, that voices don't tell you anything at all). "_"_You have fought gallantly, worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order. Now, it is finished. Surrender, and your lives will be spared."_

_The Jedi threw a look at Mace Windu, who had responded immediately; "we will not be hostages for you to use as barter, Dooku!"_

_The Jedi considered the words for the moment between the moment they left Mace's lips and the moment Dooku replied – and he found he approved. He threw the droids a savage grin, and resigned himself to death._

_"Then, I'm sorry old friend," Dooku called, without sounding sorry at all._

You aren't dying today.

_The Jedi spun his sabre, ready to die._

_"Look!" a female voice called out. The Jedi looked up, and he blinked; this was impossible. _

_Gunships. _

_With Yoda in one._

_The Jedi grinned, and blocked the laser bolts that came at him with renewed vigour. Yeah; this was gonna be good. The droids were about to receive a lesson in how to get scrapped._

* * *

It wasn't good of course, and when he'd think back on that day, he would only think of how awful it had been. Of how there could have been something that could have prevented it from happening. Should have been something to prevent it from happening.

But there wasn't.

The Clone Wars had happened.

Every moment of them struck him with the force of a ten ton brick as he meditated – slaughter and battle and death beyond count, beyond hope, beyond reason. Clones. Good men. His Commander, a man he trusted with his life.

A man who had tried to end his life.

* * *

_"Commander," he called over to Clone Commander Deuce (actually named after the word Produce, which was an ironic statement on the Clone's part since, to those who had created him, that was all he was). "What do you reckon to that?"_

_The Clone walked over to the Jedi and took the Macrobinoculars, looking out at the city._

_"OK," he said, "there appear to be a handful of very important objectives – the tank factory, the Power Station, and there – the bridge to the main city. Got a coupla hundred droids to take care of but, overall, looks pretty easy."_

_"We wish," the Jedi smiled. The LAAT they were in began to descend, as well as the other LAAT's nearby. _

_"Ok men," Deuce said to his troops. "We want this nice and quck. Take out the droids, win the day, get the girl." A Clone wolf whistled. "Well, maybe not the last part," the Commander added, and the various dramatic cries of "aw" made the Jedi smile. Good men these clones. Brave._

_The LAAT landed at the tank factory as per Deuce's orders, disgorging its contents; over two dozen Clone troopers, some in Phase II armour, some still in Phase I._

_"Alright," the Jedi said, turning to a captain. "I want you to take a squad, and take over the Power Station."_

_"Yes sir," the unnamed captain replied, snapping to attention then calling his squad to begin the assault. He turned to his men, and they moved, heading deeper into the city. The remaining troopers began following Deuce and the Jedi down a deserted, somewhat rubble strewn street._

_"We sure about this, sir?" Deuce asked the Jedi as they walked. "Only I'm getting a bad feeling about this."_

_"I don't sense anything," the Jedi reassured the Commander. They walked in silence for a moment, before the Jedi stopped. "Ok, now I do."_

_The Clones took cover at a signal from Deuce, and after a moment, they saw what the Jedi General had sensed._

_Super Battle Droids. There were only a dozen or so, but against regular men that could still cripple them as a fighting force. The Jedi watched as two of his men were gunned down as the droids spotted them, and he leaped forward, ignited his sabre, and but one in half._

_"Charge!" he yelled. The Clones did so, advancing and firing upon the droids._

_In retrospect, the Jedi thought, the full frontal assault was not always the best way to go about things. Clones fell all around him, and while the Supers were taking casualties, they were being backed up by regular B1's._

_"Right," he said. "I count fifteen droids firing from a turret on the balcony, another twenty on the ground. Easy," he added, smiling. "Let's go."_

_Deuce nodded, and grabbed a rocket launcher from a fallen Clone. He turned and aimed at the balcony. Just as the droids there realised he was there, he fired, and the entire balcony exploded in flames. The Jedi smiled and spun his blade, blocking the bolts that came his way with practiced ease._

_"Target the Jedi!" one of the droids yelled, right before Deuce rolled up to it and blasted it point blank in the face. Various droids and Clones got into hand-to-hand scraps, some Clones punching the droids (and breaking their hands for their trouble), and the droids responding by grabbing the clones by the throat and throttling them. The droids were at the advantage due, to their numbers. Seeing that the clones were wavering, the Jedi jumped straight into a mass of droids, swinging his sabre back and forth, smashing and slicing dozens down. The Clones cheered, and charged, shooting down the remaining droids._

_"We seem to have driven them off for the moment," Deuce said to the Jedi as he finished off one of the last droids with his lightsabre._

_"Yes," the Jedi agreed. He looked around; he was surrounded by allies, and yet somehow, he felt that there was something wrong, something off. Deuce removed his helmet, and smiled. A moment later, the Clone Commander received a call on his holographic communicator, a holographic projection of – it sounded like Chancellor Palpatine, but the Jedi couldn't be sure._

_"Commander," the projection said, "execute Order 66."_

_The Jedi looked at Deuce. Deuce looked at the Jedi._

_"What's order 66?" the Jedi asked. "Some kind of contingency plan?"_

_Deuce nodded, silently, grimly. Then he lashed out, knocking the Jedi over, his lightsabre rolling away from him. The Jedi was quick to get to his feet, calling his lightsabre to him._

_"Stand down," he said immediately. _

_"I'm sorry about this, General," Deuce said. "Orders are orders. Kill the Jedi!"_

_The Clones snapped to action, and the Jedi cursed the fact that he was surrounded by the buggers. He ignited his sabre and blocked their bolts, but they were a lot cleverer than droids and it was all he could do not to be hit. He sighed and jumped up, trying not to be shot while he leapt, and landed on the balcony._

_"Take down that building!" he heard a Clone – probably Deuce – yell. He swore, and ran to the adjacent building, blaster bolts landing all around him. He grabbed his comlink._

_"Stop shooting, damn you!" he yelled. No reply. He swore again, and jumped out of the building – landing in the middle of an army of droids._

_"Blast the Jedi," a droid ordered, and he ran back towards where the Clone were. If he could set them off against one another, then he might be able to –_

_He was cut of by an explosion, which threw him into a wall and stunned him. When he landed, he was also reasonably certain that he'd broken a rib or two, and was probably concussed. He was also unable to get the Force to heal him, meaning his concentration was low. Definitely concussed._

_He didn't know how long he lay there, injured, but eventually, a familiar face was above him. Deuce, definitely._

_"Hello," he managed weakly. "Sorry about the run."_

_"Sorry you had to," the Clone replied. Then he raised his blaster, aiming it directly at the Jedi's head, and fired._

_He heard one word before complete blankness took him._

_"_Kal."

* * *

He opened his eyes.

Good men had been forced to do bad things. Jedi had been slaughtered. And here he was, being offered the chance to be the head of an Army of Jedi Knights, just ready to strike back at those who had destroyed the Order. To restore the justice to the galaxy once again.

He blinked, and sensed the two Kaminoans enter the room behind him.

"Have you come to a decision yet, Master Jedi?" Ja Nei asked.

The Jedi looked at the two Kaminoans, who were looking at him expectantly.

"Yes," he said. "I have. I'll help you."


	5. Chapter 5

"... now naturally, some Jedi equipment has been difficult to reproduce," Nao Sar said as they walked down the corridor. "The lightsabre in particular has proven most difficult to comprehend."

"Huh," the Jedi said, looking around. He, Nao Sar and Ja Nei were walking down a corridor, and through the windows of that corridor, the Jedi could see the clone incubation pods.

Clones of him.

The little clones were so fragile in their little pods. So helpless. Hard to believe this was how the GAR had started out. He could sense their life essences, glowing in the Force. Oddly, some of them showed signs of being more attuned to the Force than he was.

_They may all be cloned from a single source, but they are different beings_, the Jedi realised. They were all Force sensitive, though, which filled him with relief. He knew Kaminoans killed 'defective' units. The thought sickened him. He resolved to bring the matter up at some point.

"We have however managed to replicate the lightsabre technology to a degree," Nao Sar continued, not noticing the state of thoughtfulness the Jedi was in. "The parts, individually, are simple."

"Where did you get the parts from?" the Jedi asked suspiciously.

"Ah, well..." Nao Sar said, seeming somehow reluctant to reveal his sources but seeing he had no choice, "we managed to disassemble your lightsabre. The parts were studied and replicated with comparative ease."

"Disassemble... my lightsabre?" the Jedi said slowly. "You destroyed my weapon?"

"Destroyed? No," Nao Sar said, looking slightly confused. "Disassembled. We did not put the device back together - we were under the impression that the putting together of a Jedi's weapon was the province of a Jedi."

The Jedi sighed. They were attempting to standardise the construction of lightsabres to a degree, and he wasn't sure he blamed them. After all: how was an army of Jedi meant to be armed without standardisation of parts?

"What about their clothes?" he asked.

"Their... clothes?" Nao Sar asked. "Why do their garments matter?"

"Ordinarily they don't," the Jedi said. "But if you want me to train these kids to be Jedi, then they have to dress the part. Otherwise it'll be that much harder for this plan of yours to work."

Nao Sar looked to Ja Nei, who so far had been silent.

"We can replicate the general style of Jedi garment very easily," she said, nodding. "We still have your original garments, Master Jedi."

The Jedi nodded. "Those robes are the same basic design as all other Jedi robes," he confirmed. "Copy them and you should do well."

The Kaminoans nodded and the Jedi sighed, before casting his mind back to their initial discussion about his participation in this... experiment, was the only term he could think to use. Well, maybe project. Then something occurred to him.

"You mentioned having some 'items and technologies'," he said. "What items?"

Ja Nei actually smiled, a rare sight with Kaminoans.

"Let us show you," she said.

* * *

Fourteen holocrons. Several training droids. At least one full set of Jedi robes - his own.

"Where did you get holocrons?" he asked softly. The fact that they had holocrons filled him with hope: he was mortal and would die, and he didn't know all that there was to know about being Jedi: hell, he didn't even know-all the forms, just a bit of Shii-Cho and some Niman.

But the holocrons contained knowledge enough: of that he was sure. With them he would not only be able to train the Jedi army - he'd be able to train himself further.

"We had some clones retrieve them for us," Nao Sar explained. "We believe they might be helpful."

"Oh, I assure you, they will," the Jedi said, smiling. "How long until I start training Jedi?"

"The first one hundred units will be ready within the next few months," Ja Nei said. "The accelerated ageing present in the GAR Clones will have them up to twenty physical years old in half the time, but we've modified their genome: from there, they will only age at half the normal rate."

The Jedi nodded, only half listening, and picked up a holocron, preparing to learn what was necessary.

By the time the next few months were up, he would have to be ready to train a new Jedi order...

* * *

**Approximately three standard months, two standard weeks and three Kaminoan days later.**

CJ-0066 was his number. Of the first one hundred prototypes, he believed he was the only one who felt _nervous_ about today. But why shouldn't he be nervous? After all - today was the day (at least according to Ja Nei) when they would be meeting their original donor - the man who was going to train them. Turn them, if the educational films they'd been watching since they had been born (as it were) were to be believed, into Jedi - knights of an old, well respected order that had been betrayed.

So yes, so sue him, he _was_ nervous. In fact he didn't know why no one else was.

"You needn't worry, 66," 0001 had said to him earlier. "The Jedi has no preconceptions about us. There's no reason to think he'll hate you."

"That isn't why I'm nervous," he replied, looking up into the familiar brown eyed, auburn haired face. "He's the Jedi. The original. Being in the same room with him... it'll make me feel..."

"Inadequate?" 0001 asked. 0001 was, like the rest of them, very young in appearance, but like all of them, he was wise beyond both his physical and mental age. Unlike the others, though, he felt the burden was more on him to prove himself, being as he was the first of the batch.

"Well, yes," 0066 admitted. 0001 smiled.

"Knew it," he said. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. Besides, we're nothing compared to him. Feeling inadequate is only logical."

"Oh thanks, I feel so much better," 0066 said sarcastically. The two clones walked over to their fellows. The entire little group of young Jedi clones were dressed in pure White robes. They carried no lightsabres, the Jedi having deemed that they were not ready even for training sabres. They understood though. They would begin their training with synth-plastic swords, which would teach them the basics, before anything else. Those training weapons were lined up along one side of then wall.

"Will he be here soon?" one clone asked. They had been waiting for twenty minutes, now, and they were even younger than they appeared, so patience was not among their virtues.

"I'm sure he will," 0001 said. And then, almost as if by magic (although the Kaminoan education the clones had been through belied the possibility of any of them believing in magic) the door to the huge training room opened. And then, in he came.

He was six feet tall, maybe six one at a pinch. His hair was long and tied back in a ponytail, and he had a neat little beard. He wore brown and cream Jedi robes, and clipped to his belt was his lightsabre - a small silver cylinder that belied the importance of the weapon. His brown eyes swept the room, taking in the one hundred clones of himself that stood painfully to attention at his arrival.

He smiled.

"You don't need to stand to attention," he said. The clones relaxed. "My name is Flint. I'll be your Jedi Master."

Flint walked over to the pile of training swords, grabbed three, and started throwing them to the clones.

"Well then," he said. "Are we going to train or what?" 


	6. Chapter 6

His number was CJ-0066, and he was a clone. He was also a Jedi. It was something of a strange mix, to be sure, but somehow he, like his brothers, pulled it off magnificently.

CJ-0066 was four standard years old, and looked twice that. He wore a white Jedi robe, and held the same standardised lightsabre as his brothers, constructed the same way (_the image of a small white room with one hundred identical little boys sitting in it, hunched over one hundred identical desks with one hundred identical sets of parts, all of them struggling to use the power that surged through their veins to try and feel the right way to assemble their weapons, came to 0066 in a flash but he put it down_), with very minor differences. 0066, for example, used a blue lightsabre like many of his brothers (_the crystal seemed to speak to him, telling him of the justice he and it, together, would impart_), where several dozen of his brothers preferred green, several used yellow and a handful even used violet. One clone had even managed to create a white bladed sabre. Naturally several other clones mocked him for it, but gently. There was no malice in this Jedi army, which, as you can imagine, made their Jedi Master very proud.

Varrus Flint had proven himself more than a capable teacher. In fact, he had proven himself a standard against which clones would constantly test themselves. The man was tireless. Well, maybe not tireless - in the two years the Jedi knight had been training Clones, his hair had begun to streak with grey, mainly from the stress of teaching one hundred clones the ways of the Force. Other than that though, he had remained pretty much the same, and had taken to training the clones with a gusto that each and every one of them was grateful for.

0066 was currently sparring with 0065, a brother who, although he was close in number, 0066 just didn't know that well. He regretted that, but regrets got you nowhere. Practice did.

65 was a good duelist, but he was a little heavy handed, and slow, treating the sabre as he had the training swords - i.e., much heavier than lightsabres. 65 didn't take advantage of the lightness of the sabre. He also barely used the Force, relying more on inbuilt reflexes to block strikes. This served 66 well, as he was able to run rings around his slower opponent. He blocked another heavy strike, then launched a series of faster strikes which threw his brother off balance, before finally disarming 65. 65 stepped back, raising his arms and smiling.

"Nice one," he said appreciatively.

From behind them, someone started clapping, and 65 and 66 turned to see Flint walking up to them. The Jedi smiled.

"65, isn't it?" he said to the defeated clone.

"Yes, Master Flint," the clone bowed to the Jedi. Flint shook his head.

"No bowing. I trust you've learned your lesson for today?" he asked. 65 nodded.

"To take better advantage of the sabre and the Force, Master," he said. Flint nodded.

"Well done," he said to 65. "Defeat in the practice arena is only truly defeat if you learn nothing from it. Now go practice elsewhere."

65 bowed again, causing Flint to roll his eyes, and walked away. The Jedi turned, and looked at 66, who stood ramrod straight. He smiled at the clone, who then relaxed fractionally.

"Some interesting manoeuvres there, boy," he said.

"I took advantage of my opponents weakness, Master," 66 replied. Flint nodded slowly, a smile developing on his face.

"I know you did, but you also used a mostly improvised model of one of the more advanced forms of lightsabre combat," the Jedi noted. "That's something to be impressed by."

"Is it, sir?" the clone asked softly. "Others have won fights."

"Yes indeed," Flint said. "But to naturally begin channelling a more advanced form is most impressive, young one."

He looked around. The other clones were still sparring, many of them improvising moves as 66 had dine, although most of them stayed within the confines of the first form. The difference between them and 66 was that 66 had stepped beyond the box: a rare feat for a clone of any kind, even these Jedi clones.

"I think it's time we started training you first batchers in more advanced styles," Flint said after a moment, more to himself than to 66. "Go find another sparring partner," Flint ordered, and 66 went off to do so. Flint sighed, and began walking: he decided to go find Nao Sar to discuss initialising the next stage of training.

* * *

In the two years of training clones, he had learned a lot about them. One: they were heavily militarised, although that was primarily the Kaminoan's fault: they had created films detailing the rumours that circulated about Jedi life - the less sordid, disgusting, and downright malicious rumours which, obviously, were untrue - and training - which ranged from the kriffing obvious, such as meditation and remote training, to the totally mad, mainly in the form of "theoretical applications of Force ability" (Flint had yet to try flying, which was one of the things he was apparently "theoretically" capable of doing). All these holos had repeatedly stressed how limited and probably unreliable some of this information was, and how when "the Jedi" began teaching them, his information would supersede anything the holos said, which was a good thing to add, as Flint had a lot of superseding to do.

Two: they knew a lot about fighting. Despite their only source of information being half degraded holos from centuries ago as reference for lightsabre training, they knew their stuff, and the Kaminoans had made the most of the holos: diagrams and analyses aside, the clones had come out with some fairly astute questions: questions the Jedi would not gave been able to answer were it not for his time using the holocron.

Three; the kids were smart. No clone ever made a mistake twice. No clone ever made another clone's mistake. Clones adapted. They improvised. Flint believed that soon enough, there would come a day when the clones could beat him. He looked forward to it. It would mean he had succeeded. Succeeding was good.

Flint sighed and went back to his room to meditate. Meditation was a good thing. It allowed him to heal his body of pains and aches developed over the day. It also allowed him to focus in on precisely what genetic manipulation had been performed on him.

He had not approached the Kaminoans regarding what had been done to him, mainly because he could not truly be certain that it was them who had done it. They were the likely suspects it was true, but not the only ones. Besides which, alienating them would serve no purpose at this juncture.

He entered his room, knelt, and began meditating.

* * *

The following week, the Jedi clones were told that they had to pick a lightsabre form to specialise is. Being clones, they weren't used to being given a choice about anything. Many opted to continue training in Form I, Shii-Cho, and Flint, who was supervising the choosing, was not surprised. They could change their minds later, and even if they didn't the first form would work well enough for them.

Many clones elected to choose to learn Niman, the sixth form. Flint was pleased by this: all rounding was, in his mind, wise. However, he also noted with interest - and not a small amount of pride - the fact that every form had clones going for it. This was good: the more varied the fighting styles the army selected here, the better it would be for them in the long run.

With that, he had assigned each of the seven groups of clones a holocron that would tell them precisely how to begin learning a form. He trusted them all by now to learn by themselves. They all knew where he was.

He turned, and headed for the exit, only for Nao Sar to arrive in the training room as he was leaving.

"Master Jedi," he said, smiling in greeting. "I trust all is going well?"

"As well as can be expected, Minister," the Jedi replied, bowing. "The teacher teaches, the students learn."

"Excellent," the Kaminoan said. "I'm sorry to have to say, we require further samples of your genetic structure today."

Flint bowed, accepting this, and accompanied the Kaminoan Minister from the training room.

"That the students progress so quickly is surely a testament to your greatness as a Jedi," Nao Sar said as the two walked down the corridors.

"It is a testament to nothing but their own skill," Flint replied. "I'm merely a guide."

"Your humbleness in the face of your success is laudable, but you have justified our faith in your skills," the Minister said as they approached the lab. Flint said nothing as they entered, and sighed when they began the procedure to put him under. Ja Nei looked at him, and then he began to lose consciousness.

He hated this part.

* * *

_"I'll stay with you forever, Varrus."_

"Never leave me."

"Master Windu requires volunteers for a mission."

NO!

"I'll never leave you, Varrus."

But she had, hadn't she? Shed left him years ago and now here he was... alone.

Talking to himself.

"A testament to your greatness as a Jedi."

What greatness might that be, Minister Nao Sar? The greatness of a man who failed the one time it mattered? What kind of a greatness was that? What kind of great was he? 

* * *

When he woke up and had returned to his room, he closed his eyes and sighed.

He would be a long time healing. He was glad that his life was limited to only a few decades. Were he one of Yoda's race maybe, with this pain and a millennia to contemplate it, he would go mad...

* * *

"All modifications appear to be working at peak efficiency," Ja Nei reported.

"Thank goodness," Nao Sar said, sighing in relief. "With his hair, I thought he had rejected the modifications, or somehow shut them off."

"The hair is merely a sign of stress," Ja Nei assured the Minister. "The suspension of Master Flint's ageing was completely successful."

Nao Sar nodded and left without another word. The Jedi was doing an excellent job. It would have been a shame if old age had been allowed to claim him. This way, he would continue teaching for generations to come.

Much more productive. 


	7. Chapter 7

_14 BBY. Kamino training facility._

Really, thought the six year old Clone who looked twelve, lightsabre combat was simple: a matter of recognising a foes moves and remembering the correct counter. Since lightsabre combat was a series of forms, all lightsabre combat could ostensibly be predicted. Spin, duck. Strike, parry. Stab, swing. Slice, block. Dodge, reverse. 0066 was very good at remembering the different responses, and really, that's all it was. Formulaic.

This was the thought that hit him as he blocked three attacks from 0043, who was using Djem So against him. Djem So was impressively powerful, 66 had to admit. But 66 had made it his business to practice every form he had fought, resulting in a sort-of Niman which combined everything, give or take. Of course, it would take years for his skills to be perfect, but as he studied pure Soresu on the side, he felt confident he would be fine.

The practice fight had been going on for some minutes, 43's violet blade trying to break through 66's blue bladed defence and vice versa. The two span and blocked and dodged, making certain that they could strike at optimum efficiency.

"Mind your guard," the watching Jedi Varrus Flint remarked. Both clones checked their guard quickly and then went back to it. Focussing primarily on his Soresu, 66 blocked all of 43's strikes, noting the seamless combat technique while he did so. 43 was going to be big.

66 dodged a strike and span around, raising his sabre in defence and smiled. 43 ignored this and charged, and 66 was forced into a series of desperate manoeuvres to block the strikes. Damn, when did his brother get so fast? He spun around, and blocked another strike, before snarling and forcing his opponent back.

Plan b was in order. 66 reversed his grip, standing in Shien style, then charged.

Djem So was strong defensively but with sufficient Shien power, 66 was sure that he could break through his brothers defence. Strike, spin, whipcrack... a final push and a kick, and he had it. When he disarmed his brother with a flourish, 66 smiled and saluted. 43 nodded back, and sighed.

"Well done," 43 said.

"Indeed," Flint added. "Now both of you, go meditate."

The two clones bowed and walked out of the training room. Flint smiled, then checked his datapad. This concluded this months cycle of training matches that he had to oversee: 500 spars in a Kaminoan month. Scary.

Flint sighed. The clone Jedi had repeatedly proven that they could fight Jedi. That they could fight the far more numerous blaster opponents was not something they could prove: remotes were one thing. the loving were entirely different. Unfortunately, there was no way to test them avaunt the living.

Or was there?

Quickly, Flint put a call through to Nao Sar. He had an idea...

* * *

66 was under fire, spinning his lightsabre like his life depended on it, which in some respects it almost did. All around him, white armoured soldiers fired at his brothers, and the young Jedi was hard pressed to fight them: they were skilled and deadly.

He and his brethren - the fist 100, together with several units from later batches - were training against a battalion of antitroopers, who were using stun weapons, while the Jedi had powered their sabres down to "scorch armour only" settings. Master Flint had ordered an exact-as-possible recreation of the Geonosis arena for them to practice in. The training would not only be good for the Jedi clones, but for the antitroopers as well.

"66, on me!" 0001 (or as he preferred being called, merely One) called. One's blade, a yellow sentinel weapon, shone brightly, and it made him a target. He, however, had seen a chance to break out and had gathered a group of Jedi to him.

66 ran over to him, blocking one bolt and dodging past some younger Jedi who were standing in a knot, blocking everything they could and slowly dwindling. 66 sighed at their comparative lack of intellect in regards to what they were doing but he would have to live with it. When he got to One, his brother grinned.

"They're outnumbered on the left side," he said. "They're concentrating on one side too much. If we get to the stands, well have cover as well as lightsabres to protect us."

66 nodded. "A good plan. What happens when they notice us though?"

One shrugged. "Deal with that bridge when we cross it. Come on!"

The little huddle of Jedi ran across the arena that, by rights, ought to have been dusty, sandy, but as this was Kamino nothing was dusty, and the only sand was at the bottom of the seas.

As the little group ran, 66 felt a pain shoot through his head/_but he shook it off and raised his green lightsabre, ready to face his enemies is battle_ and he shook his head to try and clear it/_his lightsabre twisted as he blocked another red bolt_/but it didn't work. He snarled in pain but kept running/_even as the pain cut into his head, and his heart..._

When they hit the wall, the Jedi started ascending up into the replica stands. They blocked several more bolts and for the longest time, nothing could touch them, and then, finally...

_Yoda arrived with the Clone army..._

... the voice of Varrus Flint rolled through the room.

"Simulation over," he said. "Good work, clones."

66 sighed as he and his brothers descended, carrying their stunned brothers - roughly half their forces - out of the room. Although none of them could see the antitroopers faces, 66 could feel the stares, the animosity. _You think you're better than us._ The accusation, unspoken, hung in the air. 66 ignored the feeling.

"Hey, Jedi!" one of the Fett clones called. "Let us know if you ever need a real army for training! Although from the looks of you, I'd say the only time that'll happen is when you want to practice your surrendering!"

The Jedi clones didn't respond to the taunt, trained as they were to ignore such insults. 66 however, decided to give the laughing Fett clones a rude gesture, as he and his brothers left.

"What was that, little Jedi?" one Fett clone said, angrily. 66 sighed and turned. Two antitroopers were approaching him. 66 flexed his muscles slightly, and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Need help?" One asked. 66 shook his head, and approached the two Fett clones. They started circling him, and he sighed, reaching into the Force. The first few blows he merely blocked. The next two, he held the fists in place, before throwing the culprits bodily into one another. The two Fett clones got up angrily, and charged 66, who fell back - intentionally - before twisting one antitrooper around, immobilising him, then kicking the other into his comrades. Finally, 66 threw the other antitrooper into a wall. The other antitroopers stared at 66 for a moment, as if in shock.

"Wow," one muttered. Then, drill sergeants came and took them away. One patted 66 on the back, and he smiled grimly.

"That was some display, 66," he said. "Some display."

66 smiled back, and together they walked out.

* * *

66 sighed, as he sat down. He was six years old. Six years old, and in that time he had grown into a weapon. His 'display' with the antitroopers had proved that. He sighed. Was that all he was? Just a glorified clone trooper? Mindless killing machine CJ-0066 at your service? Was there nothing more?

Would that there was some answer for these questions in his own mind. Would that he had the courage to ask the answers from one he knew - not just thought, but _knew_, unequivocally, have an answer, even if it was one 66 didn't want to hear.

He closed his eyes. Meditation was the key. Yes: he would meditate on his problems, and see if there was some answer in the Force. 


	8. Chapter 8

_She was looking up at him with the same love in her eyes that had made him fall for her in the first place. He smiled down at her, and leaned down to kiss her, one last time before the end._

"Never leave me," she said, softly, her voice barely a whisper. He looked her in the eye, his own moistening; he held back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Sir," a voice called to him. "Sir."

Varrus opened his eyes, and looked up; into the face of a clone. A Fett clone. Most likely an antitrooper: odd in and of itself as normally, it was a Jedi clone who would come for him.

"Yes?" Flint asked softly.

"Minister Nao Sar wants to see you," the clone said. "Says it's urgent."

"Does he now," Varrus replied. He sighed. Nao Sar didn't ever ask for his presence, as he wasn't needed: unless - unless it was actually an emergency.

"I'll be over shortly," he said.

* * *

The antitroopers were being armed. All of them. Every single one armoured in the old Phase One armour and told to ready himself for combat.

Varrus Flint watched them as they ran, many of then armed with the standard blaster rifle. Others seemed to be armed with more ARC-esque armour and rail guns. A couple seemed to be jet troopers. The sheer variety of trooper types shouldn't have impressed him - he had after all fought alongside the real clone army - but for a resistance force supposedly made in secret... it was impressive. No other word for it.

"It looks like you're arming for war," he remarked to Nao Sar.

"We are," the Kaminoan said. "Well, the antitrooper division is. It's a lost cause but they'll not be dissuaded."

"How did the Empire fond out?" Flint asked.

"I wish we knew," Nao Sar said honestly. "But unfortunately, there is little way of knowing. Perhaps they have more foreknowledge than we thought. They do have a Sith."

"Will our project survive?" Flint asked, disturbed by the reminder of _him_: he feared confronting that Sith. Vader's exploits were well known. Unfortunately. "There is a risk," he added. "If they're on alert..."

Nao Sar looked sideways at Flint, who had left the sentence hanging deliberately. Kaminoan faces were difficult to read but Varrus could tell, just this once, that the Minister was worried.

"It's a risk of course," he said, his voice betraying no more apprehension than if he had been asked about the Jedi Army's lunch arrangements. "But our facility is the best Kamino can offer. If we can't hide ourselves, no one can."

"And if the Empire capture the Kaminoans running the antitrooper project?" the Jedi said, worried about the problems they could face. "Or even the troops? They've trained with Jedi clones."

"The troops are ordered never to reveal the nature of what they trained with," Nao Sar said, as the two walked past a few Jedi clones, who bowed reverently to Flint before walking on, talking in hushed voices about the coming battle. "And the Kaminoans overseeing them neither know nor wanted to know about our project. It saves us all problems. And let us be brutally honest: the Empire will not take prisoners."

Flint sighed as another few antitroopers ran by them.

"The antitroopers don't matter to you, do they?" he asked.

"They're a tool," Nao Sar said softly. "A mere tool. Our Jedi army is far better equipped to combat the Empire. They are a... stopgap plan."

Flint watched more of the young, eager Clones run around, ready to die for their creators.

It was saddening; they deserved their chance. They would never get it. They couldn't win, and being realistic, they must know that, and yet...

"Do you really think the Empire won't find you?" Flint asked, angered by the Minister's attitudeto the young clones. To his surprise, the Kaminoan looked suitably solemn.

"I am as willing to die for the cause of galactic freedom as anyone," he said, inclining his head. "As a Jedi, I'm sure you concur with the sentiment. When that death comes, be assured, I'll face it well."

"Galactic freedom, or Kamino's?" Flint asked wryly.

"Both," the Kaminoan said. "The Galaxy's is possible, but Kamino's will suffice."

Flint nodded, expecting such an attitude.

"When the end comes," he said, "if indeed it does, what say we make it memorable?"

Nao Sar smiled, and nodded.

* * *

0066 parried the practice blows from 0167 lazily. The second gen clone was younger, no challenge at all, but to learn, 66 had to block every blow.

Truth be told, he was preoccupied. The anti's were readying for war, as were the Jedi. They all knew the Empire was going to come soon: sooner than any of them anticipated. Too soon. They would all die here.

"No," he murmured, stepping inside the younger Clone's attack and knocking him over. "Not today."

"66?" Sixteen-Seven asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, kid," the older clone said. "go back to meditating."

The younger clone nodded and walked on, leaving 66 to ponder. One hundred clones at physical age eighteen. One thousand more at physical age fourteen. Another ten thousand at physical age ten. They were increasing in number. The older batch had learned enough to aid Flint in their training, and that was good, because otherwise some of them would have been sorely under-equipped.

An anti walked past him, and he sighed. They would all die. And they were willing to do so. Madness.

_Honour. Freedom._

"Do you think their deaths will be worth it?" a voice asked. 66 turned - and found himself facing Master Flint. He thought for a moment, the question grabbing his attention.

"Perhaps, if we remember them," he said. "If we remember that they fought for freedom, that they died in defiance of a tyranny..."

"It does not matter when, nor how death comes, but how you meet it," Flint finished. "Yes, I see your point."

"Am I right then?" 66 asked. To his surprise - and consternation - Flint merely laughed.

"I love you Clones," he said. "You assume I know these things. I don't know if you're right, 66. I hope you are. It might be nice."

Flint stood and bowed to his student and walked off, leaving 66 wandering exactly what he was meant to think.

"Good luck to you," he finally said, softly, directing his words to the anti's. "We won't forget."

* * *

It was six days later that the antitroopers were annihilated by the Imperial 501st Legion, led by Boba Fett.

Six days after that, the Jedi clones held a service.

Four days after that, Varrus Flint walked into a Kaminoan meeting that he knew Nao Sar and Ja Nei would be at with only one thought that he wanted to express.

"Training is over," he said. "Time to take those Jedi out into the galaxy."

Nao Sar and Ja Nei shared a glance, a worried one at that.

"You are sure of this?" Nao Sar asked.

"No," Flint admitted, "but I'm sick of hiding. Let's make the Empire hurt."

Perhaps it was not really a Jedi sentiment, but Flint had never been the best Jedi. And besides, he had lost too much. Too many Jedi had died. He was damned if the loss of the antitroopers was going to go unpunished.

One way or another, the Jedi were going to return to this galaxy.

Justice would return. He swore it. 


	9. Chapter 9

Stormtrooper TK-4110 sighed. For the last five hours, he had stood guard at weapons depo 1456 on Tatooine, waiting for his relief.

He was a Fett Clone, one of very few left outside of the 501st. More than once, he had tried to transfer, but the elites wouldn't have him. He didn't know what he had done wrong, but oh well. Nothing to be done.

He had heard Stormtroopers complain about their jobs before, and not known why. Many of them got action that he would never see, worlds of wonder and splendour to shoot (he smiled inwardly, remembering the brief action he had seen in the Clone Wars). Saying that, many of those were recruits not Clones.

Recruits were lazy, cowardly, not dedicated to battle like Clones were. Clones were Iwarriors/I, always had been, always would be.

Just as he thought this, the door to depo 1456 opened: but it wasn't a Stormtrooper who entered, but a tall, robed figure. The robes were white as a Kamino corridor, flowing as the figure marched into the depo, dust barely touching the hems.

Those robes were familiar...

A lightsabre ignited, an azure beam that illuminating the man under the hood: handsome, red hair and light stubble, young.

"Halt, Jedi traitor," TK-4110 said, aiming at him. Jedi had betrayed the Republic. They were the lowest of the low. They had to die.

The Jedi regarded him, before settling into a stance. TK-4110 didn't care: he aimed carefully, and fired. The Jedi blocked. No matter. Jedi had betrayed the Republic. They were the lowest of the low. They had to die.

He fired again, each bolt deflecting into a wall. Again and again, TK-4110 fired his rifle, while the Jedi almost lazily blocked the bolts. No matter. The Jedi were betrayers, and the righteous fury of the Clones would win out.

The Jedi altered his angle of deflection, and suddenly, a bolt struck the Stormtrooper in his arm. Numbing pain shot through his body but he scrabbled desperately for his pistol with his remaining working arm. Jedi had had betrayed the Republic. They were the lowest of the low. They Ihad/I to die. No exceptions. It was his duty. His duty was his life. /pp

The Jedi telekinetically grabbed his pistol and threw it across the room. He walked over to TK-4110, and almost sighed.

"I pity you," the Jedi said. TK-4110 snarled, and went for the Jedi: the lightsabre deactivated and an arm caught the Clone and threw him to the floor. Stunned, all TK-4110 could do was slip into unconsciousness...

* * *

66 sighed. Tatooine was a horrid, rancid little sand dune, and the young Jedi-clone did not see why anyone would have chosen to live there given alternative locales to pick. But then, sometimes people did not: criminals and bounty hunters and general scum Iseemed/I common (although 66 knew full well that this was a generalisation).

In groups of two, three and occasionally four, the Jedi army's first hundred had gone out, covertly striking at small Imperial bases and causing minor annoyances. 66 and his friend One were together on this rock to ruin a weapon depo: One was distracting the majority of the guards, 66 was left to deal with one clone.

One clone.

Like him but also very much not.

He sighed again. He hated having to kill them, brainwashed servants of a corrupt Empire, especially as their fate could have been his, but here it seemed he had no choice. He set the charge, and left the Clone where he lay.

As he walked out of the depo, he saw his comrade; One was blocking bolt after bolt, easily defeating the comparatively lacklustre efforts of the Stormtroopers who were arrayed against him. They didn't even act like trained soldiers, they just stood there firing, not moving, barely dodging, seemingly ignorant of the doom that they were ensuring for themselves. Pathetic. Nothing like the highly trained Clone Troopers Flint had told them about.

One grinned at 66 as he continued blocking. 66 joined him, blocking the last bolts the troopers sent, and then, when the troopers were all dead, switching his lightsabre off.

"Mission accomplished?" One said.

"There were no problems," 66 replied. "Come on, we need to get a ship. Do you remember your codename for the rental?"

"Zarik," One said, smiling. "You?"

"Kal," 66 said, solemnly. "Come on."

Together, the two walked away from the destruction they had wreaked. A moment later, the entire facility exploded, as the charges 66 had set went off.

* * *

Varrus Flint liked the reports he was reading. Each one seemed better than the last; five hundred Wookiee slaves freed, a star destroyer disabled, an ammunition depo on Tattooine obliterated... the Jedi Army, something he had been unsure about at first, had finally proven its worth. Years of training and planning had proven worth the effort.

Flint felt invigorated. Though a scant handful of his clone children had apparently been slain, there was no evidence left of the Jedi Army - the bodies were either vaporised in starships or else returned to Kamino by the fallen Jedi's brethren. No one had any idea how the Jedi had managed to succeed in this way. Of course, it had taken a lot of careful planning - meeting up on the remote planet Dantooine, setting up a camp there, as well as emergency cloning centres and training facilities, since the clones sent out could not return without risking the discovery of the cloning facilities still on Kamino. Add to that the actual targets to be selected…

Flint snapped out of his reverie as Nao Sar approached. Ja Nei was with him.

"The evacuation is proceeding," the Kaminoan said, softly. "We're sending the next batch of ships out in fifty three hours."

It had been decided to permanently relocate to Dantooine, in order to make certain Kamino would be spared any harm.

"We go last, I trust?" Flint asked. "In case something goes wrong and we need to begin again?"

"No, we go in fifty three hours, with the first transports," Ja Nei said, looking bemusedly at Flint, as though this fact should have been obvious to him. "Only Minister Nao Sar will remain here to conduct his business; he has contacts with the Imperial forces stationed here. His absence would be suspicious if it wasn't delayed."

"I would not worry, Master Jedi," Nao Sar said, smiling patiently. "We shall remain in effective isolation on Dantooine, still able to launch assaults as and when required."

"That is not what worries me," Flint said, angrily. "What worries me is if the Empire detect our presence on Dantooine, before we finish the evacuation from Kamino. I need to remain here until the last possible second in case that happens, to help rebuild this project."

"Dantooine is safe," Ja Nei countered. "Here is not, hence why we are leaving."

Flint sighed. In truth he didn't know why he was against leaving until the last possible moment, except that he didn't think it wise to risk moving the operation full time. /pp

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes. The Force felt strange to him.

"Is there something I don't know?" he asked, his voice tense and dangerous.

Ja Nei looked at Nao Sar, and the latter sighed.

"As a matter of fact, yes," the Kaminoan said. "We believe the Empire has learned of our location. Though they do not know the nature of our project, they know there is one. They are sending troops led by Vader himself to investigate."

Darth Vader. Scourge of the galaxy. Coming here? Flint was torn between a sudden dread that chilled his heart… and a sudden excitement that seemed to warm his very soul.

"This is an opportunity," Flint gasped, suddenly enthused. "One we can scarcely waste!"

"What opportunity?" Ja Nei asked, dreading the answer she knew was coming.

"To kill Vader," Flint said, smiling. The warmth won, taking the chill away, and all there was left was the sense of _rightness_ in this idea. "We leave a clone behind to fight him. One of our best."

"Which would you advise?" Nao Sar asked cautiously. Flint blinked, and started thinking. Which of his thousands of clone children would be the best choice to send against the Dark Lord? Who would stand a chance?

"I'd say JC-0001," he decided finally. "He's the oldest and the most dutiful, and I trust him to carry out his mission."

Nao Sar and Ja Nei looked at each other, each one of them somewhat dubious about this plan's potential for success. However, Jedi Flint was their expert on Jedi related matters, and the killing of a Sith seemed to qualify. Therefore the two nodded, now agreed without speaking a word.

"Very well," Nao Sar said. "See to it that he is briefed well on his mission."

"I will," Flint promised. This was one task he would see done _right_.


End file.
